


just a buncha blurbs

by charliesnackavoy



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 09:33:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12340062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charliesnackavoy/pseuds/charliesnackavoy
Summary: honestly, just a collection of tumblr-inspired blurbs about various hockey boys (prob rare pairs) being in and/or falling in Love™





	just a buncha blurbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> frankie has a thing for time and a bad reaction to losing. brandon loves him anyways

Brandon says the ride from Denver to Colorado Springs is only an hour. Google says it’s an hour and seven minutes. Google tends to be right more often than not, but Frankie isn’t going to point that out to Brandon — he was being nice enough to put up with him while he shut down, he wasn’t going to mess it up.  
Brandon warned him about the chilly weather in Colorado, but Frankie didn’t listen. He grew up in Massachusetts, he knew cold. Besides, they were going to Arizona after Colorado, did he really need a jacket?  
He wishes he’d listened to Brandon the day before when they were packing for the road trip. He wishes he’d at least brought a hoodie instead of a long-sleeved shirt when he steps out of the rink and swears he can see his breath. He doesn’t react though, he remains stone-faced.  
The drive actually takes an hour and twenty minutes, Brandon and Google both lied. An hour and twenty minutes full of Frankie blasting the heater on himself and keeping his hand away from Brandon no matter how many times he tried to lace their fingers together.  
“You’re driving,” he’d say. “You need both hands.”  
And Brandon didn’t press it, though he’d try for his hand in another fifteen minutes. Frankie winds up counting the minutes between attempts. They’re nearly spaced out perfectly. Brandon liked to work up a routine with Frankie on nights like this, he liked to give him something to look forward to, even if Frankie would refuse to take the bait each time.  
They finally hit Colorado Springs and Frankie isn’t sure what to expect, but Brandon says he’s got an apartment out here so he can have a little bit of home when he has the chance to spend the night in Colorado. It’s quiet and Brandon waves to a few of his neighbors. Frankie’s hand is finally in Brandon’s as they walk, there’s something about the familiarity of his big hands in the unfamiliar surroundings that keep Frankie calm. Brandon isn’t complaining.  
Dinner is silent, Brandon makes something he loved as a kid. It’s comforting, but it isn’t as comforting as being in Brandon’s arms and judging from the knowing smile playing at the corners of Brandon’s lips, Brandon knows what he wants even if he won’t say it.  
They’re cuddled up in bed some time later and Brandon’s pressing careful kisses to Frankie’s temples any time his body tenses. Brandon’s sure he’s thinking about the game, thinking about ways that he could have improved, about things he could have (should have, as Frankie puts it) noticed as they were happening. He lets him rethink the night, though. He lets him rethink his shifts for a while, knowing full well that if he didn’t, Frankie wouldn’t rest at all.  
It’s easier to let him do it at his own pace. With gentle kisses and soft shoulder rubs. It’s easier to spend as many minutes as Frankie needs like this.


End file.
